


And I will try, to fix you

by writerlily



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 18:44:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2743175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerlily/pseuds/writerlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon is the last to return to Winterfell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And I will try, to fix you

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this saved in my drafts for a long time and was always too hesitant to post it. However, here it is, and I hope you like it!

Jon is the last to return to Winterfell, many years later.

Rickon is already surpassing many of the others in height and training alongside boys of the land under the stern leadership of Arya. Gendry is by her side, which Sansa was hesitant to allow at first. She had long learnt to become suspicious of men, but his gentle nature and longing glances he had for Arya melted Sansa’s reserve. Besides, it was more often than not an amusing sight to see Arya blushing redder than a tomato around Gendry.

Sansa and Bran would often giggle at the two behind closed doors in the library. Bran had grown into a strong, smart young man like Sansa knew he would. He was by far the smartest of the remaining Starks and he was always offering advice and counsel to Sansa when needed.

Sansa had been in Winterfell for a long time now. After the deaths of the Lannisters by the dragon queen’s hand, she quickly rode to her fallen home in the north. Winterfell was promised to her by Robb after his death. With the Queen’s permission and an alliance of peace between the north and the south, Sansa worked on rebuilding Winterfell to it’s former glory and power. Word quickly spread to her younger siblings who rushed home as soon as they could from the unknown areas of the land they were in. It filled Sansa’s heart with joy and love to be reunited with her family again. Even though the deaths of her parents and her beloved older brother hung on them like a dark cloud, they knew they had each other and it was more than enough.

When Jon returns, it surprises Sansa so much that she stays rooted to the ground in an alcove by the castle. No word, or letter, had been sent to her to prepare her for his arrival. Arya and the boys rush to the gates, not even allowing Jon the courtesy of dropping his belongings first, before attacking him with hugs. Their greetings and warm laughter are loud enough to filter through the entirety of Winterfell. It felt much like home with him back and Sansa’s heart clenches tightly.

Jon has gotten older with time, but in the best way possible. His hair is no longer curly and sticking out everywhere, but short and cropped which defines his sharp features even more. His grey eyes look frosty against the black stones of the castle and the harsh white from the snow. He has always been a lean man, but now there’s muscle that Sansa’s eyes roam across. He also reminds her of her father, looking like the epitome of a true Stark.

He catches her staring at him and his smile falters slightly. She nods her head in greeting and turns away from him, noting the flicker of confusion that flashes over his face. She motions a servant over and gives him orders to take Jon’s bags and get him settled into one of the nicer rooms near the boys. He would probably like that best. Sansa doesn’t know why she feels so nervous having him back. It was bound to happen. When she was with Petyr under the guise as Alayne, she had heard whispers that he was still alive and kicking, but she thought it would be naive of her to have any hope of seeing him again.

She remembers the fact that he didn’t tell her goodbye before he left for the Night’s Watch. He had bid farewell to everyone but her and that had stung her. Although they weren’t close growing up, she still would have wanted to wish him a safe journey. During their time apart, she spent many nights praying for his safety and wondering where the world had taken him. Sansa has grown and has realized how foolish she was in her younger days. She feels so stupid when she recalls how childish she was and mean towards Jon. She always made sure to remind him of his place, that he was not an actual part of her family, that he wasn’t her brother. He was just a bastard to her and Sansa regrets being so harsh. He’s part of the family as much as she is.

She doesn’t know what to say to him but she can trust that he’ll get comfortable here in Winterfell again. It’s as much his home as it is hers. As the Lady of Winterfell she holds her head high with pride at having been able to successfully bring back Winterfell and her family. She’s not who she was anymore. She will kill anyone who tries to ruin this again, she swears it.

-

It’s dinner time and Sansa feels her stomach twisting in knots. She puts on one of her nicer gowns. It’s a long sleeved black dress that accentuates her pale skin, red hair, blue eyes. Tully eyes. She looks in the mirror and can almost see her mother looking right back at her. Sansa briefly wonders whether her parents are looking down at her right now and if they’re proud of her. She really hopes that they are.

Sansa brushes her hair for what seems like the millionth time. She doesn’t want Jon to see her as the little arrogant girl she once was when he knew her. She’s a different person now and she wants to make a good first impression. She wants him to see that while he’s aged, she has too. She’s older and more mature than before. Then she feels silly for trying to dress up and contemplates changing again, when a knock on her door tells her that dinner is ready.

Sansa sighs and runs her hands over the front of the skirt of her dress. She takes a deep breath to calm herself, and stands straight. It’s just Jon downstairs. 

Jon Snow who she grew up with within these very own castle walls.

Jon Snow who has gotten better looking with time.

The thought somewhat terrifies her. After escaping the brutal men from her past, she hasn’t found any men attractive since. She hasn’t felt anything towards any men and here comes Jon. She hasn’t even spoken a word to him since his arrival and she’s already overthinking things.

Sansa shakes her head and walks down to the dining table. The candles burn brightly and the room is filled with delicious foods. Bran and Rickon are seated on the right of her, while Arya and Jon are on the left. She stops by Rickon for a moment to give him a swift kiss to the top of his hair that he smiles at, before sitting at the head of the table.

She clears her throat when she sees Jon staring at her with an odd expression.

"I’m so glad you’re back here in Winterfell," she says finally to him, having rehearsed it on her way down.

"I’m happy to be back as well," he says hesitantly, practically noticing the mechanical way she spoke her greeting. However, he finally smiles and nudges Arya with his elbow.

It dawns on Sansa that maybe the reason for his return is just for Arya. For some selfish reason, that disappoints her but she masks her features again with a smile.

"No one told me you would be coming," she rolls her eyes and cuts a piece of meat on her plate. "I would have gotten things prepared prior to your arrival. I hope you were able to get settled in comfortably."

"Yes I was," he responds in between bites. He’s quiet for a moment as he twirls his fork in between his long fingers. "You’ve done a wonderful job rebuilding here and bringing the children back home."

"Of course I didn’t do it all by myself," she says to appear humble. A wave of pride floods Sansa and she can feel her cheeks slightly reddening. She wonders if she looks just as red as Arya when Gendry kisses her cheek in front of her siblings. "I had plenty of help from the loyal servants here at the castle."

"We helped too you know," Arya interrupts with a wry grin aimed at Sansa.

"I was getting to mentioning you, but you had to cut in," Sansa chides but she shoots her an amused look.

"I’ve been training too, Jon!" Rickon yells out with a mouth full of food.

Sansa glares at him. “Don’t speak with your mouth full, Rickon. It’s unbecoming.”

"I’m sorry," he replies, still with a mouth full of food and a wide smile.

"You’ll have to show me some moves you’ve learned then," Jon winks at him. Sansa glances back to Rickon and notes that it's the first time she’s seen him look so excited in a very long time.

"So how long do you plan on staying here in Winterfell?" Sansa asks Jon. She leans back in her chair and takes a sip of red wine.

He eyes the drink in her hand and wipes his mouth with a napkin. He almost looks nervous now as he runs his hand through his short hair. 

Sansa briefly wonders what it would feel like between her fingers, then scolds herself. She takes another sip of wine, reminding herself very much so of Cersei Lannister. 

"As long as you’ll have me my lady," he says, his grey eyes boring into hers.

The way he’s looking at her sends butterflies to her stomach. It's ridiculous really. She shakes it off to appear casual and waves a hand dismissively.

"You make me feel so old calling me that," she laughs tightly. "I think you would be fine just calling me Sansa."

"Okay… Sansa," her names rolls off his tongue and she likes the way it sounds. He smiles and it stretches out his face. It reminds her of when they were younger and he would be full of laughter with Robb.

"And you can stay as long as you like Jon," she pauses to weigh her words out carefully. "Nothing would make me filled with more joy."

They both miss the hopeful looks that Arya and Bran share across the table.


End file.
